The Fallen- Part One Read online

  Mom stroked Estrella’s hair. “I know, love. It’s okay. You did what you thought was right. Eli is just worried. He loves you two.”

  We knew. He must have still had some serious clout, because the paramedics were there in minutes. Or maybe it only seemed like minutes, because Raphael’s healing was starting to wear off and my thoughts were getting slower and slower.

  The Fallen went invisible as the paramedics walked through the door. “We’ll go collect the rest of your seven,” Ace said to Mom. “Lux must be going nuts.” She sounded amused. “Memphis will help.”

  The large angel scowled. “I’m not a taxi service,” he grumbled, but he threw me another inscrutable look and nodded. Luc, still invisible, leaned close despite the fact the paramedics were loading me onto a stretcher. “You didn’t call me.” He sounded hurt.

  “There wasn’t time.” I wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, but that would look super strange.

  Luc just growled. “You will call me if you have need.” His tone brooked no argument and I smiled.

  The Devil had my back. Always.

  2

  I woke up sobbing. Tears dripped down my cheeks until the pillow beneath my face was uncomfortably damp. It was a little from pain, though the pain medicine usually kept me comfortably numb.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the shiny barrel of the gun, felt the hot splatter of JJ’s blood against my skin, felt every cut, bruise, broken bone all over again. In the true depths of the darkness, my mind made up stories about how I got my injuries while I was unconscious.

  I was alone in my room, finally making everyone leave, though there were still police officers outside my hospital room door.

  “Why are you crying?” a voice asked from the darkness, with the almost innocent curiosity of a child. Except he wasn’t a child. He was the Angel of Death.

  “I hurt,” I said, my voice muffled because my jaw was still healing. Even in the darkness, I could see him wince

  “You’re healing. You aren’t in any real physical pain. When I saw you in that warehouse, you hadn’t even shed a tear, and you were in far more physical agony than you are now.”

  I wanted to smile at him then, but that hurt too.

  “My pain isn’t physical, Azriel.” Though my face scrunched in pain as I said it.

  “Mindspeak. You are injuring yourself more.” His voice was cold, as if he didn’t care if I was hurting. But then, if he didn’t care, why would he have said it?

  I’m sad, and scared, I clarified for him. I had a suspicion that Azriel wasn’t the most emotionally intuitive of angels.

  “You have nothing to fear from me now.” He sounded almost offended.

  A little laughter bubbled from my throat. It's not you I’m scared of, I answered, then laughed again as his face got even more offended.

  “How could you not fear me? I am the Angel of Death,” he huffed, as if he hadn’t just told me not to fear him. I think I just hurt his angelic pride.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. It was basically the only movement I could do that didn't hurt. One word. Lucifer. You’re scary, Azriel, but he is downright petrifying. If you don’t know him. Once you get to know him though, he’s basically a huge teddy bear.

  For the very first time, I saw Azriel’s lips curl into a small smile. “I’m sure he’d love to hear you say that.”

  I don’t know why that small expression meant so much to me, but it made my heart swell. I tamped down the feeling.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate your visit, your Angelicness, but why are you here?”

  The smile dropped from his face. “I wanted to see the aberrations up close. You are...different than I expected.”

  Oh? I resisted the urge to punch him in the nose for calling me an aberration again. Only the fact he didn’t seem to be saying it in a derogatory manner prevented me from kicking him out. What did you expect? Horns and a forked tongue?

  “I expected more of Acerezeal’s influence. But your aura is almost,” he hesitated, “angelic.”

  I raised my eyebrows high. You’ve obviously never met my twin. I couldn’t help my smile at the mention of Estrella, despite the pain it caused to my face. She is a lot like Acerezeal. The apple of forbidden knowledge didn’t fall too far from the tree with her, if you get my drift.

  His eyes crinkled, and I could have sworn he was going to smile again, but instead his face turned granite hard.

  “Hmm, he’s coming. There’s something in you that is wrong, because I have never seen him act this way. You’ve bewitched him.”

  Then Azriel was gone and I was alone again. Though, as the Angel of Death had suggested, I wasn’t alone for long. I felt the swirling discontent before my eyes could even find him in the darkness.

  “Memphis.” I muffled it out loud, because I wanted to hear him answer me.

  “Hope.” His voice was cold, as he stepped from the darkness, his blue eyes glowing eerily.

  He looked like the Angel of Death, not Azriel. Azriel was almost pretty in his perfection, a teenage girls version of the perfect man.

  Memphis looked like a demon, with his black wings and his hard eyes. Why was he here, his huge black wings taking up all the space in the room, his hard face sending waves of fear through my body. Or maybe it was list? Maybe I was fucking losing my mind.

  I tried to speak again, but Memphis lifted a hand. “Don’t speak. I find I’m disturbed by your pain.” He sounded perturbed by the admission too. “I just came to, well, check on you. I do not like you here alone, unprotected.”

  There's police right outside my door, I reminded him, but he rolled his eyes almost like a teenage girl.

  “And your previous bodyguard was from your human armed forces.”

  The stab in my heart at the reminder of JJ’s death made me whimper, and Mephistopheles stepped forward, laying a hand on my shoulder. He loomed above me, and my hindbrain thought that perhaps I should be scared, here alone in the dark, with the very embodiment of a nightmare trying to console me.

  “I apologize. That was heartless of me. Please don’t get upset.”

  You are a fool, Mephistopheles. With his hand on my shoulder, I heard his thought as clear as my own. I resisted the urge to console him for his faux pas. It was still important to keep my empathic abilities a secret. I just nodded, blinking back my tears furiously.

  “I will guard you the night.” It was a statement, not a question. Who would guard me from Mephistopheles, though? I eyed his dark shirt, it’s fabric shining unnaturally under the artificial hospital lights. He was handsome, but it was a harsh sort of beauty; you admired him in the same way you admired a well crafted blade. He drew the eye and held it, and before you knew it you were broken on the floor at his feet. No, he might be playing nice, but Memphis was trouble.

  “No need,” I said out loud, but he ignored me, going to stand in the darkened corner, wrapping his large black wings around his body until he disappeared into the darkness as if his huge six and a half foot frame no longer existed.

  “Sleep,” he ordered. I rolled my eyes, and found that I couldn’t resist his command, the darkness of sleep like waves, pulling me under and keeping me safe as I drifted off into oblivion.

  There was no such thing as uninterrupted sleep in a hospital, and at an ungodly time of the morning, someone was there, thrusting a tray on my lap table, the clattering of silverware loud enough to wake the dead. My eyes flew to the corner where Memphis had been keeping watch, but he was gone.

  I choked down a jelly and some juice, flicking the tv between morning shows. I wanted to go home now. Hospitals and forced inactivity weren’t my forte.

  I needed to be at the office, or my home office or with Marinette, JJ’s wife, or something.

  I sat up, shifting my legs over the side of the bed, glad that my hospital gown tied on the side so no one had to see my butt. I ignored the pain in my ribs, but the throbbing in my jaw made me hiss through my teeth.

  “Should you be out of b
ed?” I turned too fast at the sound of another person in the room, and my body protested. Quite vehemently. I yelled and grabbed at my side, but my eyes watered with relief.

  “Dad.”

  My father was there in a second, grabbing me in a gentle hug.

  “God, I was so worried.”

  Oz was my biological dad. He loved me with every ounce of his being. They all did, of course, but Oz treated Rella and I as if we were the greatest gift he’d ever been given, and he was determined to cherish us with everything he had. We were his second chance. Being with him was like being cocooned in love, like a balm on my empathic abilities. No matter how bad we screwed up, wave after wave of love just flowed from him.

  “I’m okay now,” I soothed. I looked over his shoulder, knowing there would be others with him. Mom was the next through the door, closely followed by Lux, who trailed after her like a bodyguard, his eyes always searching for threats. When his eyes rested on me, his whole face softened. Tears slipped from my eyes, and I vigorously tried to blink them back.

  I didn’t have to be tough with Lux, I didn’t have to put on a brave face, soothe his nerves. Lux was a protector. He would make everything better, either with diplomacy or the threat of violence. Usually the latter. He and Rella were a lot alike, despite the lack of actual shared DNA.

  He reached out and wiped away my tears with the pad of his thumb. “You are okay.”

  It was a reassurance, and a promise.

  Valery and Ri were there next, and I laughed when I saw Valery had Ri loaded down with bags.

  Oz stepped away from me and Ri swept me into his arms, a little less gently than he probably should have, but I gritted my teeth.

  “Fuck, Kid. You aged me a hundred years.”

  “Does that make you a thousand now?” I laughed, though my words were garbled. He pulled back, and his eyes were shiny. I probably shouldn't have spoken. Apart from being a pretty patchwork of bruises, none of my more threatening injuries were visible. But it was hard to hide the fact that I was speaking like a drunk.

  Valery ran a hand over my hair, whispering something in French. “Never again, oui?” I tried to smile. Valery always switched to French when he was upset. I just nodded.

  “Let the poor girl get back into bed,” a voice said from the door. I looked up at Sam standing in there. His smile lit up my world, his handsomeness was ageless. When I was a kid, before I grew boobs, I wished Sam had been my dad. I would have been a stunner. Or maybe I would have been one of those ugly duckling throwback kids that beautiful people had sometimes.

  He came over, leaning down to kiss the top of my head, and then held my elbow as I walked the three steps toward my hospital bed.

  “Where's Tolli?” I already knew where Eli was, harassing my doctors. I would have bet the family fortune on that one.

  “He’s outside. He blames himself for you getting hurt.”

  I raised my eyebrows high. “How?”

  Sam shrugged. “He believes he should have been there, not you. If he hadn’t asked for you to stand in, this never would have happened.” He waved a hand at my battered body.

  I snorted in a very unladylike way. “Tolli is formidable, but not even he can control a hurricane. What happened was no one's fault. Except, you know, them.”

  Talking about it made me uncomfortable. Except with Rella. But I'd made her go home. I needed to be alone with my thoughts for a while, and I couldn’t do that with her in the same room. At least if she was in Boston, there was a chance of blocking each other without giving myself even more of a headache.

  “Make him come in here, Sam. I need him too.”

  Tolli and Sam were kind of a package deal. I was closest to Sam and Tolli, because of my position in the family company, and they had mentored me. They trusted me as an adult, where the rest of my parents still saw as the tiny baby they’d almost lost.

  “Tolli!” I yelled, and screwed up my face in pain.

  Sam’s brow crumpled. “Tolliver, get your ass in here before she does something dumb like yell with a broken jaw again,” he shouted, sending me a disapproving look. I tried not to grin because it hurt, but I doubted I was hiding my mirth well.

  Tolliver strode into the room like he owned it. It was just his natural bearing. It made him good at business, and once upon a time, had made him a great model. But I could see the small things that were off. He didn’t look me in the eye, there was tension in his face that aged him. Not by much, but it was noticeable to me anyway.

  Finally, he looked at me, and the tension seemed to leave his shoulders. The roiling guilt was still there, you couldn’t hide emotions from me, but the lines of his face eased.

  “Hope-“

  I interrupted him. “It isn’t your fault. Come and tell me what is going on with the company. I’ve been gone for three days and it feels like an eternity.”

  He came over, pulling up the blanket and fluffing my pillows. The space was packed now, and I was glad I had a private room.

  “Should you be talking with a broken jaw at all?” Tolliver asked, his eyebrow raised.

  “It’s only a small fracture now. Raphael fixed it that much. It hurts but at least it didn’t need surgery.” Though they’d had wired it shut to keep it supported while it healed.

  Everyone tensed at the mention of the Archangel Raphael, the way they did at the mention of any of the archangels. It’s been twenty odd years since whatever went on with them and Luc and the Angels, but they were still on guard. Like they expected their lives to be recalled at any moment. It was my mom that spoke. “We are grateful for what Raphael did.”

  Lux nodded from where he was leaning against the wall. He was well into his fifties now, his formerly dark hair now streaked with grey.

  Tolliver filled the awkward silence, telling me about how the NRH Foundation was functioning without me.

  It was a testament to how injured I was that his words pulled me into sleep.

  When I woke again, they were gone, though traces of my family remained; a thermos of soup that smelled amazing, extra pillows, a huge bouquet of flowers, a terrified beat cop that now physically checked on me every ten minutes like clockwork.

  I squealed when I saw my laptop. I could work. Or binge watch Netflix. Maybe a week in hospital wouldn’t be so bad. Kind of like a forced holiday.

  3

  “Hello Hope. I’m Villette, the welfare officer here at the hospital. I’m here because you’ve suffered a traumatic event, and your doctors would like to assess your emotional wellbeing.”

  I tried not to physically cringe. Therapists were the worst on my empathic abilities. They either cared too much or not enough, but both types were jarring to my nerves.

  “I’m fine, really. I don’t remember much and I’d really just rather go home.” I smiled sweetly at her.

  Unfortunately, Villette fell into a third category. The type that hated me because I was rich. I could feel her disdain as she looked around my private room, at my top of the range laptop, and the huge bouquet of roses.

  “It is okay to admit that your… situation has caused you emotional distress. There is nothing shameful about PTSD.” She stared at the colorful bruises on my jaw, her tone professional but her emotions anything but.

  I sat up in bed, wincing as my ribs ached. Villette's corresponding glee at my pain made me feel ill. She was feeling superior now. She must have seen the disgust on my face, because she reached out to touch my hand.

  “Tell me what you do remember.”

  I didn’t pull away fast enough, and I got her thoughts as well as her emotions.

  Her kind deserve to be brought down to the real world. Fucking trust fund princesses.

  I didn’t always pick up thoughts. Only sporadically or if the thought was really loud and believed with overwhelming conviction. I jerked my hand away.

  “I think you should leave,” I said, my voice as cool as the ice princess she thought I was.

  Now it was Villette’s turn to rear back. “
Excuse me?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “If you have such hatred in your heart, perhaps it’s best you find a different career path.”

  The welfare officer sat there gaping like a fish. Then her face twisted in a sneer. “Are you threatening me?”

  I sighed, suddenly feeling very tired of everything. “No. But I do not need nor want your help.” I wished I could threaten her, but what would I say to the Hospital Board? She was perfectly professional and outwardly concerned. It wasn’t if I could show them her heart.

  “She may not be threatening you, but I am. Leave,” a dark voice said from behind her, and Memphis stepped from the shadows. I hadn’t even felt him come in.

  Villette took one look at Memphis, his wings gone but his expression one that promised pain and death, and left as fast as she could.

  “Back again, Mephistopheles?” I raised my eyebrows, and hoped he didn’t notice how relieved I was to see him.

  “Yes. Call me Memphis.”

  I huffed. The disdain of the shrink lay across my skin like an oil slick, and it was making me testy. I didn’t want to deal with this ancient angel bullcrap. I hated that I had to second guess everyone's intentions. Why could no one just be straight up? Except Rella. And Ace. They really were a lot alike.

  “Why? Why are you here? We don’t know each other. I’ve met you like twice in my entire life. I know you and Luc are friends, but seriously, Luc and Ace are a whole lot more than acquaintances and they don't see the need to babysit me. So why are you really here? Or did Luc ask you to guard me?”

  I tuned into his emotions. It was cheating, but fuck it. He was complicated, in the way all the Fallen were complicated. They felt so much, yet it was buried deep. A millennia of experiences all stuffed deep down into their psyches. They didn't taste the way the Angels did, even Raphael. They all felt overwhelmingly of loss. A loss so profound that I wasn't sure I’d be able to describe it to another person.